Silent Heart Read online

  In fact he didn’t turn around until I started to move my bed against the wall. He walked over to help but I backed away and held out a hand stopping him. He retreated with his hands in the air. I sat down on the bed and regarded him closely.

  He was fit and well muscled. So he did something that required strength. He moved easily, so he wasn’t your average farmer. He carried weapons, small blades mostly. Was he a mercenary or a soldier? He wasn’t in any kind of uniform and didn’t carry a crest. In fact he looked like any common man; brown jerkin, white undershirt, darker brown pants, knee high well worn boots. He was a little too common if you asked me. What exactly was he? He was older than me, but only by a decade or so. A strange man in the prime of his life that either saved me or carried me away to do God only knew what with. The question in either case was why? What did he want?

  He sat down on Bear’s bed and watched me just as closely. Finally he held out his hands to me and said a single word. I thought I knew that word but wasn’t sure. The gesture was one of giving and it confused me. I knew good and well he didn’t know my language, but it side tracked my mind none the less. He repeated the gesture and word a few times.

  I wasn’t sure why, and Bear was going to kill me when he found out, but looking in his eyes I kind of knew he wasn’t going to hurt me. I got up slowly and walked over to him. I could almost catch the word. He watched me with wide eyes. His body stilled and I had the idea that he thought I was going to hit him or something. I almost smiled.

  I bent down slightly and gently placed the fingers of one hand on his lips and the other on his throat. I nodded to him gesturing him to try again. He did. Sharp stubble around the edges of his lips and his chin poked at my hand. It reminded me of Father. Bear’s facial hair was much softer than this.

  “Name,” he said. Now that I wasn’t distracting myself I caught it. He wanted to know my name.

  I stood up and pulled a book out of my chest. I opened it and held one page between my fingers. He furrowed his eyebrows and said a word but there were too many parts. I shook my head and tried again this time turning each page one at a time slowly. He said a different word. This one looked right. I put my fingers to his lips again to check. Yes. That was right. I nodded my head and made the gesture that meant my name. Really it was just brush strokes pantomimed in the air; my brother’s imitation of me painting. He copied it.

  ‘Yes. Paige.’ I pointed to him and held out my hands in question. ‘You?’

  He frowned for a minute and stood up looking around the room. He picked up a small stone I used to grind down my brush handles and showed it to me. I made the gesture for stone and he cocked his head to one side, shrugged, and nodded. Then I pointed to him, made a fist and tapped my shoulder with it. Stone as in a person, not stone as in rock. He smiled at me and repeated the gesture.

  He sat down on Bear’s bed again and waited until I sat down as well. He pointed to the bed and spread his hands. Confused, I shook my head. He pointed to my bed and said ‘Paige.’ He pointed back to Bear’s and spread his hands again. I absently made the gesture for Bear, and he shook his head.

  Not knowing what else to do I opened my chest again and pulled out two baby bonnets, one pink, and one blue. I sat down next to him.

  ‘Paige,’ I said holding up the pink one. ‘Bear,’ I said holding up the blue one. He seemed to understand, but how much? He was so much more than a brother. I got up and took a piece of sketch paper and a charcoal pencil and sat down at the table. I pulled out the other chair and invited my guest over. I drew an outline of a pregnant woman and placed the two bonnets inside the hollow belly. He smiled in understanding and nodded his head.

  He pointed to the woman and spread his hands. I pointed to the ground and then to the sky holding my hands together in prayer. ‘Dead.’ He nodded sadly. He took my pencil and made a very bad drawing of a man making arrows going between him and the woman, then he repeated the same open gesture. I repeated my answer.

  ‘Dead. Mother, father, both dead.’

  He picked up Bear’s bonnet and raised his eyebrows. I pointed outside far in the distance. He questioned again. I pointed to his knife. He shook his head confused. With a sigh I drew my brother in a soldier’s uniform on a horse. That he understood.

  I looked to the sky out my window and realized it was getting late. I needed to eat. My adrenalin was coming down and if I didn’t eat I was going to pass out. The joys of being small. I was weaker and more frail than most women. The midwives said it was because I was the smaller twin and we were born early. More than that though, my horse needed to eat, my one lone companion. I had planned on going for a ride later, but the afternoon had gotten away from me. I picked up two buckets and headed to the door.

  Stone hurried to get there before I did and leaned against the door shaking his head. Was I a prisoner in my own home now? I blew the hair off my forehead and held up the bucket. When he didn’t move I tried to push past him but he held me at arm’s length still shaking his head. With an exasperated sigh I dropped the buckets at his feet and picked up a toy horse—one of my early carvings—and held it out to him with one of the buckets. I raised my eyebrows and tapped my foot impatiently. Defeated he put his face in his hand and opened the door.

  He took one of the buckets out of my hand and held my arm like I was some fragile old lady who was going to fall. I ignored it. I considered myself lucky to be allowed out. He helped me pump the water and hauled both buckets to the little stable behind the house.

  My perfect roan, Sugar, was waiting patiently in her stable. I couldn’t help but smile at the sweet horse. I pet her muzzle and pulled a brush off the wall. Forgetting all about Stone, I brushed the shining black mane and tail. I loved grooming my horse and lost myself making little gestures I knew Sugar couldn’t understand while brushing all the loose hairs away.

  Stone surprised me by pulling out the feed bag. He smiled at the horse and tended to the feeding and watering while I groomed. He patted down her neck and spoke in her ear. Sugar seemed to like him. But then again Sugar was really a very friendly dog in a horse’s body. She liked everybody. A man who was this gentle with a horse couldn’t be all bad.

  I pulled out a sugar cube, Sugar’s favorite treat of course, and pointed to the horse. I tried to say Sugar but knew it sounded bad. I made the gesture for Sugar and waited for him to repeat it. Stone seemed to understand and smiled as I fed the horse her treat. I cleaned the precious hairs out of the brushes and picked up the extra bucket. Stone took my arm once again and escorted me back to the house.

  I took the horse hairs and stowed them in a wooden box on my work table. Stone looked over my shoulder. Sighing I picked up one of my brushes and handed it to him. He inspected it and raised his eyebrows surprised. He pointed to me.

  ‘You?’

  ‘Yes.’ He indicated the paintings asking the same question. I waved my arm to include all the supplies including the paint and nodded my head absently before turning away to get dinner started.

  I poured the water into the pot over the fire and added wood bringing the hot coals to life. I pulled out some vegetables from the bin and started chopping. Stone watched me from the sidelines. I looked up at him and he put his hand over his stomach and smiled at me hopefully. It was bad enough I was basically his prisoner but if he thought I was going to cater to him, he had another thing coming.

  I got up and pulled him to the table putting his hands on the knife and turnips. He frowned at me. ‘No chop, no eat.’ The gestures were straightforward enough he got the point. He sat down ungracefully and proceeded with his task. He was deft with the knife though I doubted he used his skills very often to cook.

  We ate in stillness both still trying to size up the other. When he finished his bowl I took it away. It was night. It was time for him to go. I walked to the door and as usual he got there before I did, but this time he let me open it. I pointed to the sky and shooed him away again.

  ‘It’s night. You leave.’ He shook his
head and pulled the door closed. I tried again. He tapped his head saying, ‘I know,’ and shook his head again. I crossed my arms and stomped away. I absolutely did not want a strange man in my home overnight. So far he wasn’t too bad, but I did not trust him. Not to mention what would happen if Bear came home. He’d kill him and then yell at me…for a month.

  It was pathetic that I was more worried about Bear’s reaction than the potential threat of a strange man. I tugged at my hair frustrated. Well was I a grown woman or not? I’d deal with Bear if and when he came home.

  Okay so it wasn’t very charitable to ask him to sleep outside when he probably saved my life, but I was damned if I was going to give him Bear’s bed. I pulled a couple blankets and a pillow off the bed and handed them to him. He pointed to the bed. I crossed my arms and shook my head.

  ‘Bear’s bed.’

  Glaring he spread the blankets on the floor in front of the door. I banked the fire and blew out the lanterns. Making sure my bed was as far against the wall as it could go I took the kitchen knife and laid down with all my clothes on. He saw the knife but only shook his head bewildered and rolled over. I fell asleep watching him. My last thought as exhaustion finally won was that I didn’t think he was asleep yet. I wanted to stay awake until he was asleep.

  Three

  The man with blue eyes was staring at me. His eyes looked like blue diamonds as he reached out to me. He was bloody and so much of his skin was missing. The bruises faded into one giant purplish mottle making him look like he’d spent too many hours in the sun. His hand reached for me; he was begging for help. His diamond sharp eyes cut me and I cried blood tears. The men in black were shadows that danced around him. But the man just stared at me, pleading for his life.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I cried. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  I almost went to him but suddenly his head was cut off. I jumped back, startled. Everything turned red with blood. The man in black thrust his face at me, but it was a skeleton. My mouth opened to make a scream I couldn’t hear. He reached for me and….

  I woke with a start, breathing hard. It took me a long minute to realize I was home and I wasn’t alone. I looked over and Stone was breathing deep and regular facing the door. I was perversely glad I didn’t wake him. Wiping the tears out of my eyes I tried to sleep again. The blue eyed man was burned in my head. Every time I closed my eyes his face was there waiting for me, cutting me fresh with his blue diamond eyes.

  I couldn’t sleep like that. I had to get the images out of my head somehow. I got up and walked slowly to my art supplies. Bear always woke up when I did that. People must make sound when they move about. Stone didn’t stir and his breathing didn’t change even as I lit a single lantern.

  I sat down at the table and drew furiously. I drew scene after scene with alarming detail. My hand moved so fast it began to hurt, but I couldn’t stop. The man with blue eyes was urging me on. His face was so clear to me; every line, every flaw, every detail. I drew his face, his eyes pleading and shaded with bruises. I drew him kneeling on the ground screaming in agony with patches of blood where the skin was missing. I drew the men in black as they circled him, taunting him, torturing him. I drew their faces; all six of them clear, at the moment they first looked up at me. I drew the moment when the blue eyed man’s head was taken off, his body left limp on the ground and the head discarded like garbage. I drew the skeleton man’s face disturbingly distorted as he watched me with shaded, sunken eyes. I drew the malicious smile when he thought he was going to have a little fun with me.

  With shaking hands I pulled out my paints and dabbed little bits of color here and there. Mostly I colored in the blue eyes of the man taking the time to make the shade perfect. How ironic was it that I had been out that day with the sole purpose of collecting a plant to make blue paint and here I was using the last of it for his eyes. I colored in the blood, and the brown of the man’s hair, and the dark russet of his clothes. The effect was him over and over in living color surrounded by demons in black and a dark landscape.

  Putting on the final touches I stretched an arm out on the table to cushion my head while my nimble fingers finished. I fell asleep like that, leaving the bits of paint I’d used to dry in their bowls. My fingers were still mottled with the clinging plant dye as consciousness left me.

  Something lightly touched my shoulder and I jarred awake sitting bolt upright. It was morning and Stone was standing over me looking concerned. I hastily ran my fingers through my hair and started to get up. He put his hand back on my shoulder and pushed me down. He sat down next to me and carefully pulled the stack of papers to him. He looked up at me as if asking permission and I nodded.

  Grim faced he went through each one, staring at each detail. His face fell with each new scene, each new revelation. What was just grim slowly morphed its way to absolute disgust and anger. He threw the papers down on the table and held his head in his hands for a long time. I was going to reach out for him, but he looked up at me suddenly. I must have made a sound again. He pointed to my eyes with two fingers and then to the pictures.

  ‘You saw?’

  ‘Yes.’ He shook his head sadly and looked back down at the papers. His whole body seemed to be weighed down. He looked bigger, bulkier, less graceful sitting at my table sadly regarding my horrified visions. He looked up again and waved his hands over the men in black and pointed to the ground.

  ‘These men, here.’

  ‘No. Gone.’ I waved a hand to the distance. He shook his head and repeated the gesture moving his arm to encompass my door and pointed forcefully to the ground.

  ‘These men will come here.’ He pointed to me. ‘For you. You saw.’ I stared at my door in horror. Come here? Because I saw them? Oh God, he was right. I could identify them and they had no idea I couldn’t hear. They really were going to come for me. Should I leave? Run away? Where would I go? How would I tell Bear without leading them right to me? Oh no, were they already watching me?

  He took my chin interrupting my frantic thoughts and pulled my face back to him. I was so worried I didn’t even realize he touched my face. He looked me in the eye and pointed to himself and to the ground.

  ‘I’m here.’

  Oh.

  He was trying to protect me. I closed my eyes and nodded my head. He looked back at the drawings and put his head in his hands again. I got up and put my hand on his shoulder as I walked away and set about making breakfast. I didn’t ask him to help. A few meals and a bed were the least I could do for my protector. He seemed upset enough as it was anyway.

  I turned around and he was chopping a small wrinkled apple into small pieces. He walked over and threw them into the pot of cereal I was making. It seems he wanted to help anyway. We ate quietly and I watched him fold up my drawings and stow them away in a cleverly hidden pocket on the inside of his jerkin. He was still moving slowly, burdened.

  He got up and picked up the bucket and toy horse. ‘You stay. I’ll go to Sugar.’ He was good with his hands. The gestures were all wrong, but I understood him. Better yet, he mostly understood me. That was definitely a boon to my situation. I nodded and set to cleaning up a little.

  While he was out I made up Bear’s bed for him. Really it was unfair of me to make him sleep on the ground the night before. I pushed his bed against the wall so it was further from my own. Then I pulled out a bit of rope I had hidden away and strung it between the beds. I grabbed my last clean sheet and hung it on the rope with clothes pins. There. Now we had some privacy.

  It was taking Stone a long time and I was about to check on him but he walked through the door. He looked at the changes and raised his eyebrows. I brought him to Bear’s bed and told him it was his…to borrow.

  ‘Bear’s bed. Stone’s bed.’ He sat down and looked at me astonished. ‘You here, your bed.’ I smiled and walked off leaving him to think that over.

  Later in the morning he asked me for a shovel. He started making digging motions with his arms but I didn’t understand the con
text and just stared at him. In the end he drew a crude shovel on a scrap of paper I had lying around. I turned to get it but he stopped me.

  He took my shoulders and turned me to him. He frowned and gingerly ran his fingers over the side of my head and ear. I winced away. It hurt. He took my chin and moved my head around searching for injuries. He ran his fingers along my jaw and around my neck. I pulled away and he caught my hand. He pushed up the sleeve and inspected the red and purple marks blossoming where I had been bound. I pulled my hand back and rubbed both wrists.

  Frowning I turned around and walked away to get the shovel. It was in a corner by the privy. I held it in one hand and asked why with the other. He tapped his chest where the papers were hidden and made my gesture for dead. He wanted to bury the man. I solemnly handed over the shovel and followed him out the door.

  He tried to make me go back but I stubbornly refused. I was there the moment the light went out of his eyes. I was the only witness to the torture and murder of a man whom I thought tried to save me by calling out a warning he didn’t know I couldn’t hear. I needed to be there to bury him. I took Stone’s arm and led him again.

  Four

  His body was still in the clearing. The men in black hadn’t moved it. Stone carefully surveyed the area before he put down the shovel and cautiously approached the severed head. He dropped to his knees and picked it up. His face fell and I watched astonished as tears fell down his face and he cradled the head against his chest. He murmured words I couldn’t hear or read.

  I about fainted. Oh my God. He knew him. Stone knew the blue eyed man; was his friend. His grief was palpable. At length he carefully put down the head and moved to the body. Here he was less reverent. He patted down the body and picked through all his pockets. He cut through the binds on his hands and, with a sigh, retrieved the shovel.